


Sugar water

by Aspasia96



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28452564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aspasia96/pseuds/Aspasia96
Summary: In that cave in Africa, Spike could have asked for anything. In this universe, he asked for his soul—but sent it back to himself, circa 1997.A newly souled Spike has hunted down the only other souled vampire in search of answers, and in doing so he’s become part of the Scooby gang.When Buffy comes home from her summer in LA, she finds the new undead member of her crew. How will this influence her, while she’s haunted by her first experience of death and the knowledge that she will have to face it again?This fic is an Elysian Fields 2020 Secret Santa gift for sophiesilverman.
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	Sugar water

**Author's Note:**

> This story uses parts of dialogues from season 2, episode 1, ‘When She Was Bad’ and is inspired in part by the excellent story of self-discovery on the tv show Bridgerton. The rest of the dialogue is mine.  
> All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> I’d like to thank my diligent and very patient beta Maggielafey for giving me so much help. I would also like to thank my second beta SlayerofSunnydale for always being a great cheerleader and double-checking my Americanisms. Lastly, I want to thank the amazing community on EF and the members who have encouraged me to start writing and helped me with ideas or kind words.

The first patrol of the new school year had been a dud; the streets were empty and the cemetery was deader than usual. She’d decided to take the long way home from Shady Rest to see if anything was out there lurking, when a very familiar scream came ricocheting off the trees from further down the road. 

_Finally some action,_ she thought as she sprinted towards the disturbance. By the time she rounded the street corner and got to the fight, the vampire was too distracted by his potential meals to notice her approach. And of course, it was Xander and Willow getting themselves into trouble. 

“Hi, guys!” she exclaimed.

The vamp pivoted, turning its attention to her, but she cut the fight short and kicked it onto the branch of a nearby tree, its form crumbling into dust. 

After their hellos and group hugs, and a brief catch-up on their summer activities, Buffy told them how silly it was to be out at night without even a cross. 

Xander looked sheepishly around them. “Uh, it’s been a pretty quiet summer, actually.”

Buffy started towards their houses, her friends quickly taking up their positions on both sides of her. “So, you buried the Master and all the other things that go bump in the night have kept a low profile?”

Willow glanced at Xander, looking unsure. “Angel’s friend is kind of an expert... he helped us dispose of the bones, and he’s been keeping the local demons in check.”

“Who’s the new guy? I didn’t know Angel did friends,” Buffy asked. 

“His name's Spike,” Willow babbled, looking like she was about to burst with excitement. “And he knows all this stuff about demons, and he’s English like Giles but doesn’t sound like him. He’s like Angel, a vampire with a soul, but super _not_ like Angel because he always shows up to Scooby meetings, and he calls me Red!” 

_Another one?_ Buffy smiled at Willow's enthusiasm. “Wow, some guy, huh... when do I meet him?” 

“Oh, he’s around,” Xander said, his face twisting in distaste. They’d reached his block and he looked up at the front door, before grinning at his friends. “Bronze tomorrow?”

“Bronze!” 

*

The thudding beat of the guitars welcomed her into the dark interior of the Bronze. She immediately spotted Angel sitting under the stairs and she noticed she didn’t feel much at all at seeing him again. She’d decided on the way here that the best way to confront things she wanted to change was to be direct, so she strode to him.

“So, is there danger at the Bronze? Should I beware?” she asked to his broad back.

Angel turned and he quickly rose from the barstool, towering over her. “Buffy, I can't help thinking I've done something to make you angry. And that bothers me more than I'd like.” 

“No, I'm not angry. I don't know where that comes from.” 

“What are you afraid of?” Angel insisted. “Me? Us?”

“Could you contemplate getting over yourself for a second? There's no 'us'. Look, Angel, I'm sorry if I was supposed to spend the summer mooning over you, but I didn't. I moved on.” 

She looked past Angel, towards the dance floor, and decided to drive her point home. Sitting across from Mr. Broodypants was a man cast in shadow from the balcony, presumably his new buddy Spike. With the sway back in her step, she offered him her hand. 

“Dance with me, new guy?” 

The silhouetted vampire raised his brow at her but followed her lead, taking her hand and standing up. Without looking back at Angel, she led Spike out onto the dance floor and into the spotlight at the center stage. 

“You that Slayer I keep hearing so much about, then?” he asked in a rumbling, accented voice that fought with the deep beat of the band. 

The music was making the amps thrum, and she allowed it to guide the movement of her hips as she raised her arms above her head. Before the vocalists began, she answered, sure that his enhanced senses would catch her reply. “Yup. Buffy, Vampire Slayer, The.”

Spike’s wrists came to rest loosely on her waist and he moved to her exposed back, keeping a nominal space between their swaying bodies.

“What’s this little display in aid of, then, Slayer?” he spoke into the space behind her ear. The proximity of a vampire at her back was sending warning twinges through her senses, but his cool breath against the rim of her ear was creating tingles of a whole different kind.

She abruptly turned in the circle of his arms, laid her hands on the broad leather-covered shoulders before her, and finally looked up into his face. The sharp lines of his cheekbones cast deep shadows over his face as he inclined his head down towards hers, still swaying and following her lead. She couldn’t see the colour of his eyes in the poor lighting of the Bronze, but their intensity was fierce on hers. 

“Huh?” she managed to whisper, caught up in his features. 

“Is this little show for Angelus, or...?”

“I’ve been told you’re part of the team now, so, we should get to know each other.”

“Whatever you say, Slayer. I’ve only just settled into my new spot, wouldn’t want to push grandad into a fit of pique and get myself dusted.” 

“No fits or peaks here.” As if to prove her point, she again spun slowly in his arms with her hands raised, his eyes skimming the length of her black dress as she continued the turn to face him. He pulled her moving hips to his own and closed the gap between their faces, until they were as close as they could be without touching.

“You’re playing with fire, little girl, with things you don’t understand.” 

The cool feel of him against her in the hot club was lighting a fire under her skin. “I think I understand things.”

“If you’re after Angelus, you should know who he is—he’ll use you up and spit you out. I’ve never seen a woman hold his attention for more than a year; only mummy dearest had the staying power, but I hear she’s dust in the wind now. The soul doesn’t change us that much, Slayer; it just leashes the monster, doesn’t destroy it altogether.” 

“I’m a big girl, I can make my own decisions. Anyway, didn’t you hear me? I’m over it.” 

The fingers of his left hand were now rising up her back to the dip in her dress, following the curve of the fabric from there. Goosebumps followed the chill edge of his fingertips as they made their way onto the plane of her golden skin and stroked along her spine. She was starting to understand Willow’s babbling yesterday, this guy was something alright. A giddy warmth was pooling in her chest where it pressed against him and the connection of their gazes felt electric.

As the song drew to an end and faded out, Spike began to pull away from her, his hands falling away. “I don’t like being played for a pawn against my family, even if he is a wanker.” With that, he turned to go, his duster swishing around his legs. 

Buffy was left still on the dance floor, alone, as the band started up another song. 

The heat that had been growing in her abdomen ran up to flush her cheeks, becoming embarrassment at the display she’d put on and annoyance at Spike's dismissal. How could he just leave her like that? How dare he inspire sparkage and then run. She quickly made her way towards the other tables and out of the bright lights of the stage, looking for her friends and hoping they hadn’t seen her.

She found them at a tall table near the bar. “Hi, guys.”

Xander looked away from Willow. “So you’ve met Spike.”

She drew herself up to the table's edge. Clearly they _had_ seen her, and just at the thought, the rising tide of angry embarrassment was making it hard to want to stick around and catch up. “Ya know, just giving him a Scooby welcome.” 

“Some welcome,” Xander muttered into his drink. 

“Look, I’m still tired from the drive down. I’m just going to do a quick patrol and I’ll see you tomorrow at school, ok?” She had to get away from the driving beat and sudden oppressive heat of the building. 

Willow piped up with a, “Sure, Buffy, be careful.” 

Buffy nodded, managed a small smile and finally left the place, hoping some fresh air would help her clear her head.

*

Buffy hopped up her front steps, still full of excess energy and frustration. How dare he leave her standing there like that and accuse her of playing games with people? Maybe she had wanted Angel to see her and be madly jealous, but once she’d been out there and had seen Spike's face, felt him, she’d been only thinking of him and how his soft hands made her feel. 

The front door was unlocked so she came into the hall, kicking her shoes off at the base of the stairs. “Mom, I'm back,” she called into the kitchen. She was answered by the slam of the back door and went to investigate why her mom was going into the backyard at this time of night—only to find her at the kitchen counter, rinsing a mug in the sink. 

“Hi honey, how was the Bronze?” her mother asked, without looking up.

Buffy made her way into the kitchen and grabbed her own mug to pour some still-hot cocoa from the stove. “Oh, it was fine. Saw the guys, much dancing was had.” 

“William said he saw you and your friends there.” 

This brought her up short and she leaned back against the counter, out of her mom's field of view. “William who?” 

“Oh, you probably call him Spike, but it doesn’t suit him at all.” 

“Spike was here, having hot cocoa with you?” That was both confusing and infuriating. He hadn’t said anything about knowing her mom, the sneaky jerk.

“Yes, he’s such a sweet boy. He came along with that Angel to check on me while you were with your father. He was in such a state at the time, I couldn’t let him go off like that. It’s too bad about his girlfriend.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Buffy asked casually, hoping her mom would keep going and tell her more about the newest recruit to their group. Clearly Spike wasn’t going to be forthcoming about himself. And suddenly, she felt a lurch of raging jealousy in her stomach—had he been playing her while they were dancing? No one had said anything about a girlfriend.

“She left him when he moved here to help Mr. Giles at the school. He was devastated about it.”

“Huh.” Buffy wasn’t going to let on to her mom that she was secretly relieved. She finished her drink and placed the mug into the sink, standing next to her. “So he’s been coming over a lot?”

“We both watch Passions, he comes over for cocoa once a week at least.” 

So he’d been in her house all summer. She didn’t know how to feel about that. 

She rose on her tiptoes to kiss her mom’s cheek; the new intel on Spike would do for now. If Buffy stayed any longer to interrogate her, mom was sure to smell the teenage hormones all over it. “Night, Mom.”

“Night, honey. I’ll drive you in the morning, you don’t want to be late for the first day of school.”

*

The school bell was not a sound she’d missed, but at least this one meant lunchtime. She pushed her way past the swinging doors into the library to check back in with Giles and found Willow at the central table with her head in a book. Her friend looked up from her research as Buffy approached her and groaned as she threw herself down into the neighboring chair. “How was patrol last night?”

“A complete failure. Again. Like a solid F on the slayage report card.” 

“That’s good though, right? No baddies out lurking in the night, terrorising puppies.”

Buffy just stared at Willow, then returned to her study of the library ceiling. How to explain to her best friend what it felt like to slay, the charge of a good fight, the release as her opponents poofed in front of her, the frustration of an incomplete hunt? “I guess. I just don’t feel like I’m doing my job. I mean, where have they all gone? This place was lousy with vamps last year.” 

A pink tinge began crawling across the redhead’s cheeks, as she visibly debated her words. “Um, over the summer, Spike and Angel... they went patrolling a lot. They’re kind of scary good together. I think the ooglie booglies have figured out not to cause trouble.” 

“What?” Buffy frowned, shaking her head. “Angel never patrolled before.” 

“He had to get Spike out of the house. You weren’t here, Buffy, you didn’t see what he was like. Me and Giles brought blood up to the mansion once because Angel wouldn't leave him, and… the halls were full of alcohol bottles. Then Angel started bringing him to the Scooby meetings back when we were trying to deal with the Master’s bones and his minions that were still in town. One night they walked me and Xander home and we got jumped by some vamps—Spike was still drunk but he managed to dust them all. I think he figured out how much he still liked the fight, and now they patrol most nights.” 

“The Master’s bones? There was dealing? You didn’t just throw them in the trash?” 

Willow shook her head and her eyes got big. “That’s what we were going to do, but Ms. Calendar was worried about them being used for black magic, so Giles collected them and kept them at his house. We nearly did a purifying ritual and buried them anyways, but Spike stopped us. He knew the Master, and according to him they had to be pulverised and separated so no one could try to bring him back.” 

“Wow, okay.” A big weight was lifted off Buffy’s shoulders. All summer in LA she’d had restless nights with dreams about the Master returning, but now that crisis had been averted. Maybe this was why the dreams had stopped feeling so real and vision-y, becoming more like her regular nightmares.

“And then, then, Spike went after the Anointed one and his gang and dusted them all.”

“That’s why it’s so quiet then.” Maybe this year she might actually have a regular schedule instead of having to catch up on her sleep in first period. And she had Spike to thank for a load less stress on her Slayerly plate. 

“I guess,” Willow said with a shrug, looking to go back to her reading, when Buffy interrupted again.

“Do you know why he was at my house last night? Having cocoa with my mom?” Buffy was frowning again, thinking about the fact that none of her friends had ever wanted to hang out with her mom—in fact, she didn’t think she even had any friends in town. 

“Oh, Spike says he likes people that aren’t Angel. He hangs out with Giles and Ms. Calendar too, sometimes; apparently, they watch soap operas and drink tea. Angel is sorta his vampire dad, and who wants to hang with their parents?”

Just how many things had changed in her little circle in the few months she’d been in LA? Spike had shaken things up in a big way. While she wasn’t happy about him taking her slays away from her, it was probably good that those vamps hadn’t been able to band together and resurrect the Master, or continue killing the innocent civilians of Sunnydale. Still, the warm fuzzies developing in her chest while hearing about Spike's summertime heroics didn’t stop her from feeling the urge to kill something evil. Her stake hand twitched at her side and her leg jiggled up and down against the top of the table. 

“Tell Giles I came by.” With that, Buffy was out of the library and into the halls of the school. She needed to run this energy off, or she wouldn’t be able to pay attention to any of her afternoon classes.

*

It was the fourth night of her slaying drought and Buffy had called it early. She’d reentered her bedroom via the window and flopped onto the bed, only to hear the crinkle of her diary under her pillow. She pulled it free, staring at its brown cover. 

Last night she’d woken up from another nightmare about the Master, sweating and shivering, feeling the claws of death pulling at her as she lay immobile under his body, surrounded by water. At least now she could relax, knowing it was coming from her own fears and not being sent as an ominous warning. Like so many other nights since prom, she’d been unable to get back to sleep, so she’d moved to her vanity stool. Using the paper from her pre-calling diary, she’d written out everything she wanted to do before her next death. It read: 

_Graduate Highschool_

_Graduate College_

_Try alcohol_

_Learn to drive_

_Get a car_

_Lose virginity_

_Get married_

Thinking about the future and all the things she had yet to do, she lied back down, clutching her list to her chest, and fell into a fitful sleep.

And for the next few months in Sunnydale, that was the pattern that followed every night, while her days were filled with school and Tuesday crises. All the while, her now-extended group of fighters and researchers worked as a well-oiled team, as Spike's presence seemed to lift everyone’s spirits. Giles had someone to talk to about soccer and beer, even if that someone bantered shamelessly with Ms. Calendar in front of him. Xander’s initial animosity waned as he realised Spike upped the testosterone in the room and wasn’t opposed to poking fun at Angel. Willow's initial excitement about Spike never abated as they became library buddies most days between classes, to the point that Buffy started to feel a concerning level of jealousy towards her best friend. Everyone had their thing with him—except her.

Together they saved Cordelia from becoming the Frankensteins’ bride. Spike figured out Ampata the exchange student was really the mummy of a long-dead Slayer, who they returned to the museum and with Ms.Calendar’s help freed her spirit from the shell of her body. Her tamed vampires trailed her and Cordelia to a frat house kegger and helped them defeat a snake demon cult before they could be sacrificed—that night had allowed her to cross alcohol off her list, it had tasted terrible even before the roofie. On Halloween, they all turned into their costumes—luckily she had chosen Princess Leia and the brown bikini and skirt didn’t stop her from protecting her friends from the rampaging mini demons without maiming the children in the costumes. Last week, the same guy who’d been responsible for the costume chaos, apparently an old friend of Giles’, had tried to make Buffy the target of a demon who liked to inhabit and liquefy his victims; Angel and Spike’s demons had been strong enough to fight it off and banish it back to wherever it had been summoned from. 

In stark contrast to Angel's example last year, Spike was always there when he was needed. Sometimes, she thought he was around too much. She’d come home and he’d be chatting to her mom over cocoa, she’d call Giles to report on another failed patrol and hear him loudly arguing with Jenny in the background, she’d go to the Bronze and find him teaching Willow how to waltz to a slow song. She tried not to think about it too hard, because that would’ve led to her screaming into the nearest soft furnishing. 

The only thing that really kept her frustration down was training: even though Giles and Angel were there too, she got to spar with Spike the most. The close proximity of his body when they grappled kept triggering heatwaves under her skin, and his smile whenever he won the bout took her breath away and made her chest feel like it was too tight and too full at the same time.

If Spike was a social butterfly, then Angel was a social pillbug, and continued to be one while his childe spread his wings. Spike was there for the research, the takedown, and the celebration afterwards. Worst of all, he was there when she patrolled, always somewhere nearby, checking up on her. His particular vamp tingle had begun to feel less like a danger alert and more like electricity up her spine. And whenever their hands touched as they passed weapons to each other while getting ready for that week's fight, she felt those same goosebumps of their first dance at the bronze.

Tonight, she’d officially had enough of him skulking in the shadows instead of joining her. “Spike! I know you’re out there, stop lurking and come walk with me,” she called into the surrounding darkness of the cemetery. 

There was a thud against the ground and the shadows seemed to slide off him as he emerged from the side of a crypt. “Alright, Slayer.” He stepped up to her left and they continued on her usual patrol route through Restville. 

After a few minutes of furtive silence and, as usual, no vamps likely to come at her in the desert of a graveyard, Buffy decided to broach something she’d been meaning to talk to Spike about when she’d finally get a moment alone with him. He always seemed to just be leaving whenever it was just her entering a room, and sure, he was always around the Scoobies, but he seemed to be doing his best to avoid solo contact with her in particular. 

“You’re old, right?” she started, trying to appear nonchalant. “Even for a vampire? You’ve seen places, done stuff.” 

“You might need to narrow it down there, luv. Done a lot of things that I doubt you’d want to know of.” 

“You had a girlfriend all that time. Draculara or something?”

She could see his lip twitch into a small smirk. “Drusilla was her name. Yeah, we were a duo for a hundred years, then this soul lit me up from within, and she dumped my arse like a hot coal.” 

The smirk was gone. He’d been in Sunnydale for months by then, surely he was over the evil ho who’d broken his heart? Especially since _he_ wasn’t evil anymore. The galling jealousy for anyone who had had Spike's attention rose again at the thought that some vamp bitch had gotten him all to herself for a hundred years and thrown him away for something he couldn’t control.

Shaking her head to clear it, Buffy took a deep breath and decided to steer things more directly to what she wanted to talk about. She didn’t have anyone else to ask about S.E.X., after all. It would be way too embarrassing to ask her mom, or Giles, or Ms. Calendar, and anyway they were all really old, did they even know anything about it? Willow was just as clueless as her and doubly as embarrassed. After the praying mantis thing, she knew Xander was a virgin even if he refused to admit it, and besides, after the hyena demon incident she didn’t want to go there with him. In her inner circle, that left Angel and Spike. Her feelings for Angel had melted away with the new school year and, with Spike to compare him to, she’d seen both how little he helped and his complete lack of interest in her or her friends and family. 

“I have this list I’ve been making,” she started, lifting her arms in front of herself as if to paint the title across the night sky. “Buffy Summers’ Life goals.”

She glanced at him, but his face was calm and passive beside her; he looked, of all things, concerned, his honest blue eyes making her embarrassment even sharper. If she didn’t get to it she’d lose her nerve and remain clueless.

She steeled herself and continued. “I had alcohol at that frat party. Mom won’t let me have driving lessons unless I get a job to pay for them, and Slayage and part-time employment are non-mixy. Everything else is time-sensitive, and I don’t know how much time I have. So that leaves... doing it.” 

She saw from the corner of her eye when his steady steps faltered, but he regained his composure quickly; really, anyone who didn’t know him would have missed the rhythm change, but over the months, as the Scoobies had joined her for missions, she'd come to understand the flow of his movements. Still, he remained silent and allowed her to stew in the awkward atmosphere. She reached for his closest hand but made contact with his leather cuff instead—grabbing it, she dragged him towards a nearby bench. She was serious about this and had to make sure he knew it.

Seated an appropriate distance apart to avoid any sparkage at all, she carried on with her goal to get the information she needed. “You’re my friend, you’re a Scooby. So… can I ask you some questions?”

Spike had his hands palm-down on his knees and his spine straight and rigid, his eyes avoiding her. “Questions about sex? Don’t you think Jenny or Joyce would be better with this stuff?” 

“No. I’m asking you.”

Spike seemed resigned to the strange conversation and sank back against the bench with a sigh. “Okay. Fire away, Slayer.”

She took another breath, and then her questions burst forth until she ran out of air. “What does it feel like? Will it hurt? How do you pick someone, like, isn’t it a huge thing? How do I know if I’m any good? How do you get good?” 

Spike looked a bit poleaxed beside her, still studiously not looking at her even as she stared at him eagerly, her heart rate thundering along.

“Uh, I don’t know what it feels like for the lady.” He leaned his elbows on his knees, covering much of his face with his hands. “It feels good for the man, yeah. With the right person, it’s indescribable.”

She was glad now that he wasn’t looking at her, because her eyes must have been huge. She hadn’t thought it through, but in order to answer her questions he would talk about _his_ sex life. Spike and sex. Spike sex. Indescribable Spike sex. 

“I’m not going to tell you that you need a perfect and true love, as long as you trust the person. And it shouldn’t hurt a lot, not like being cut or bruised, but maybe stinging, I’ve heard.” Another sigh rushed from him between sentences. “You don’t need to worry what the other person likes. As long as you know what you like and tell them.”

She shook her head, trying to keep her mind off thinking about how he knew this stuff. Yeah, he’d answered some of her questions, but that last bit didn’t make any sense. “That’s a para dock. I can’t know what I like until I do it, but I should know what I like first.” She frowned, for once glad that she probably wouldn’t have to worry about getting wrinkles, considering how often that was happening lately. 

“No… see, you just take what you do by yourself and apply it.” 

“By myself?” She continued to stare at him. Spike peeked up from behind his hands at her, and for the first time in what felt like hours she could see the piercing blue of his eyes. It made her both more self-conscious and determined to get to the bottom of this. He seemed to be equally confused by her confusion, though, was she being an idiot? 

“I dunno what that school has told you lot, but it’s okay to touch yourself.” 

“Touch myself. Okay.” Blood rushed to her hot cheeks as she realised he was talking about masturbation, and that yes, she _had_ been a total moron. Oh, he was going to think she was so immature, but she needed to know, it wasn’t like there was a manual for this stuff. “Um, how, how would I do that?” 

Spike re-covered his face. “I’m not going to give you a bloody road map. Just get into your girly bed, think about one of those blokes you fancy, and touch yourself. When you find something you like, keep doing it. I reckon if you can’t say the words and you don’t do it alone, then you’re not in such a hurry.” 

“Oh, okay.” She felt like the heat coming off her must have been noticeable now. She had given so much away about how little she knew... _At least he’s been nice about it._

Spike dusted off his knees and rose, turning away from her. “Come on, pet. We’re done, there’s no nasties about tonight.” With that, he started to walk towards the exit of the cemetery. 

She rushed to catch up with him, hoping that if she changed the subject he wouldn’t dwell on her cluelessness. “Slaying with company is better than patrolling alone, especially since _someone_ seems to have overdone it on clearing the baddies out.”

He was silent for a moment. Then, “Alright, Slayer, I’ll patrol with you.”

The rest of the walk was strained but, when she turned to say good night from the backdoor, Spike was much closer than she’d expected him to be. 

He reached out and grasped her arm firmly. “Don’t think too hard on this stuff, it’ll all come naturally when the time's right. There’s no rush.” 

She smiled at his concern. “Okay. Night, Spike.”

“Nighty night, Slayer.” 

*

A freshly showered Buffy padded into her bedroom that night. She rubbed herself dry quickly and moved towards her PJs, all laid out and ready for her, but hesitated. If she was going to expedite this process, she needed to be brave and do what Spike had suggested—because there _was_ a rush. She didn’t know when or how, but at some point she’d be gone again. She wasn’t going to let life’s experiences slip through her fingers. 

Still warm and nude from the shower, she slid between the soft cotton of her sheets, made herself comfy against the pillows and closed her eyes. ‘Think about someone you “fancy”’, he’d said, so she started with her go-to celebrity cutie, the brother from Clueless. But it didn’t inspire anything, she couldn’t imagine kissing him at all. Who had she kissed? Angel just felt wrong now. _Sparkage_. The last time she’d felt that was on the Bronze dancefloor, pressed up against Spike, and then subsequently every time they touched.

Her hands were lying still against her stomach. She imagined they were Spike’s hands, the way he’d touched her back while they’d danced, so light and gentle... Her right hand began to swirl around her belly button and moved up with a feather-light touch to her breasts. Spike had said to find something she liked, and keep doing it. Her own hands cupped both breasts gently as she thought of how it felt when their hands brushed. She thought of his cool, strong fingers and imagined him there with her, touching her like this. She gasped as she brushed the peak of each breast. Spike had told her to keep doing it, so she tried to maintain that feeling by rubbing against her nipples.

She thought of the moment his breath had brushed against the outside of her ear. The goosebumps across her skin were coalescing between her legs, where she could feel pressure and heat. Spike would tell her to follow the feeling. So she moved one hand with the glacial pace he would use down the length of her stomach, from the slightly down-covered swell of her tummy to the coarser hairs below. That seemed to stoke the fire inside her. As her breathing began to increase in pace, she brought her hand lower and stroked gently either side of her damp flesh. She thought of the feel of Spike’s hips against her own, how the hard muscles beneath his soft shirt must feel; the strong grip he always had when he hauled her up off the library floor.

Buffy opened her legs and continued to chase her body’s sensations. She imagined how it would feel to have Spike’s pillowy lips against her skin, running along the column of her neck. She felt up and down her slippery center, until she found that the best place was the hard nub at the very top of her slit. She tried first going back and forth over the slightly loose skin covering the pulsing area, then up and down, finally in circles, moving the skin against the pads of her fingers. _That_ was the feeling she’d been hunting down. 

She thought about Spike’s eyes, before a fight or in the heat of an argument, but most of all about the appraising glances she caught him taking when she stretched or bent. What would it be like to have that intensity up close, to feel him wanting her, to know he wanted to consume her body? Her fingers increased their speed, her hips beginning to lift in tempo with the motion. 

She thought of his voice saying her title in its deep, accented baritone, and of the way they moved together. They fought effortlessly as a pair, and when they’d danced he’d followed her motion without thought. The way his hips had moved as they’d swayed—how would that feel without barriers against her? 

She could feel something building inside herself, something she kept reaching for but couldn’t get to. She thought again of his cool fingers replacing her damp hand against herself and sped up her motions—and suddenly she was falling, her hips lifted completely off the bed as she shook inside and pleasure sang up her spine and cascaded down her body in shivering release. 

*

Buffy woke the next morning still sticky hot from her exploration, which resulted in another shower. If she was going to keep doing this, she had to hope her mom wouldn’t notice the water bill increasing. As she toweled off in her room she kept going over the conversation again, trying not to be distracted by how Spike had looked at her. He’d said that she needed to be able to say the words. She’d heard things back at Hemery and in the halls here in Sunnydale, but none of those words sounded nice enough to match what she’d done last night or what she imagined she could do.

Well, when all else failed, she relied on her training: it was time for research. 

It wasn’t like she could ask Giles to point her towards the anatomy section, so Sunnydale Town Library was her first stop of the day. The medical textbooks were gross and veiny, but at least now she had the scientific names for her parts. She turned the page from the female section to the male one, grimacing. That diagram didn’t look any nicer, and she had to wonder whether the thing on the page was any more appealing in real life. 

Next on her list was narrowing down the who. She’d thought of Spike the previous night, of how thinking about him had made her body pulse. Maybe, if she could persuade him to stop being so embarrassed and avoido-man, he’d help her fulfil her fantasies. The thought of actually getting to find out the answer to all of her questions about his body sent her heart thumping in her chest. With a hundred years of experience under his belt he must know stuff, stuff that the fumbling boys she’d made out with before would never know. She wondered if the heated looks she’d caught were because she was girl-shaped or because she was Buffy. 

Sometimes in class, when her mind wandered, she would get little fluttery bursts of heat as she day-dreamed about them finally being alone: in her fantasy, she would kiss him instead of punching him at training. He didn’t seem to like using her name and she wondered what nicknames he’d give a lover; she could have her own special one, way better than Willow being Red or Ms. Calendar being Morgana. Would he whisper it to her as he held her close?

Or maybe in reality he’d refuse to touch her after she’d been such a ho that first night. Plus, she knew he knew that something had been going on with Angel... but he was so nice to Willow and her mom, so hopefully that meant he wouldn’t laugh at the suggestion. 

She was shaky with nerves as she replaced the anatomy texts back on the shelf.

  
  


*

That night she found Spike out in the open, near the gate of her first stop on patrol, as if he’d been waiting on her. Hopefully he noticed the cute skirt she’d bought last week, red and black were his colours after all. He gave her a little salute and fell into position on her left as they made their way through the winding, grassy path of Shady Hill. 

“Spike, we’re friends, right?” she started. 

“More questions tonight, Slayer?” he asked, his eyes scanning the surrounding brush for any stray vamps. “Yeah, reckon we could be called friends.” 

“Yes to more questions. Do you think I’m pretty?” 

Spike scoffed at that. “You know you’re gorgeous, between the whelp and grandpapa panting after you. You could have any man with eyes, don’t worry about it, pet.”

“Good. Because I think I know who I’m going to ask to help me cross virginity off my list.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he asked distractedly.

“I thought maybe you could help me.” 

“What.” Spike stopped abruptly, making the gravel stones skip around his still feet. 

Buffy turned back to him, hoping it was the good type of surprise that had shocked him into pausing—but his face was slack-jawed and confused. 

“We’re friends. I trust _you_ , not Xander or Angel. Thinking about them like that kind of makes my skin crawl.” 

Actually, on the way back from the library she’d realised that she wanted to be way more than friends with Spike, but she didn’t have the guts to come right out with it. She had to lay out her argument logically like an adult, not like some school girl with a crush declaring her feelings like a drama queen. She was choosing him out of everyone and that had to mean something; hopefully, he’d choose her right back. 

“Pet, no—come on, there’s got to be some floppy-haired git at school that’ll ring your bell well enough and be happy for it.” 

“Look. I tried normal last year. I nearly got Owen killed. I’m the Slayer, I’ll always have that in me. I want you to show me what to do.” She was leaning heavily on the logic, since he was such a fan of Willow and Ms.Calendar; this is how they’d go about this, right?

If it was possible, Spike looked even paler than usual. “Bit, I can’t do that to you. Don’t ask me to.” 

Buffy looked at him, at his pale and tense face, and realised that that would be the end of it. She’d completely flopped. He probably didn’t even like being around her... why else would he have been avoiding her all autumn? 

She turned and stomped forward on her patrol route, unwilling to let him see the tears that were threatening to overflow. He didn’t need to know that it felt like there was a spear sticking out of her gut, jiggling on every awkward step away from him, or that her breathing was ragged as she tried to keep her disappointment under control. This sort of heartache just didn’t happen to girls like her, cheerleaders were the heartbreakers, not the other way around, she thought as she scrubbed aggressively at her face.

Still, Spike trailed behind her the rest of the way. Unfortunately, they found only one fledge trying to claw itself free, his back wide open; she staked him mercilessly without so much as a quip. 

Spike insisted on seeing her to the back porch, maybe in misguided pity for a stupid child. As for her, Buffy just felt humiliated and tired, entering her home without answering his goodbye or looking back to see the discomfort he was probably showing. She fell asleep fully dressed on top of her sheets, clutching her pillow to herself. Something had pulled the stopper out of her brain, and her night was full of dreams of icy hands and rumbly words, even as tears left salty tracks on her flushed cheeks.

*

"For the hundredth time, Spike, you don't need to walk me home." 

Buffy stomped up the back steps to her house and fumbled with the keys, leaning against the door. It had been weeks now since he’d rejected her excruciating offer and Spike had refused to miss any patrols with her, and he _always_ saw her home. Between the lack of evil to beat on and having to spend so much time with him, she’d taken to self-explorations most nights after patrol. That first time had seemed to create some sort of mental road map she took herself on, no matter how embarrassing and sad it was to be a big lust bunny for someone who didn’t want her. She couldn't even pretend to only care about the fact that she just wanted to have sex, since there wasn't anyone else that fit the criteria for her to ask. She just had to cradle her broken heart and make sure he didn’t see what he’d done.

"And for the hundredth time, I don't care if I need to. Rupes would never forgive me if something happened to one of you urchins," Spike replied, leaning against the railing, his hands in his pockets.

Stupid hot vampire, with his stupid nice face. And she _still_ hadn't gotten the key in the lock. In defeat, she leaned her head against the door and let out a frustrated scream. "Stop, Spike. I'm not an urchin, a kid, or a sprog, whatever that even is!" She followed the outburst by thumping her forehead against the door, making the glass rattle in the frame. To prevent the inevitable property damage she'd have to explain to her mom, she pushed away from the wall, leaving her keys half in the lock, jangling against the wood.

Spike was staring at his wrist like it held the meaning of life. "Unless we've fallen in a time slip I wasn't aware of, you’re still a minor," Spike murmured. He glanced up at the sky, as if to check it was where it was supposed to be.

Now that Buffy was at his same height, she finally felt like she could spare the building and take her frustration out on the source itself. She abruptly pulled back and popped him in the face, his nose making a satisfying crunch on impact as he fell back onto the dewy grass.

Spike growled behind his hands as he tried to put his face to rights, all sprawled on her back lawn. "Bloody hell, what was that for?”

Buffy held her ground with her arms crossed. She wasn't going to be treated like that, not even by Spike. "You know exactly what it was for, _old man_ ,'' she said as she looked down her nose at him. "I'm grown up enough to dust your ungrateful ass."

Spike rolled up to grab a hold of the porch and pull himself to his feet once again. 

"Look, Betsy, all teenyboppers want to feel older, more mature. Listen to me, I've been watching human nature for a hundred years." 

"Stop that right now. My name is Buffy and you know it," she said, getting right in his face and jabbing a sharp fingernail to his chest. "I'm not a teenybopper, I'm the Chosen One. I'm the Slayer."

“It doesn’t change who you are, who your chums are.” 

“I’m not like them and I never will be. I’m the one girl in all the world. What is your problem with me?” Hadn’t he caused enough damage already? He didn’t need to rub chilli into the wound by calling her a child constantly and showing how unimportant she was by not using her real name.

“My problem? I’m the one with the problem? You’re trying to throw away your childhood on a monster. It’s bonkers, you barmy chit.”

There were only inches between them by then. For the first time in what felt like centuries, he was actually looking her right in the eye. “I lost my childhood when I was Called. Children don’t have to save the world. I’m trying to give you, my _friend_ , a part of me. And I’m trying to do it because I could be dead tomorrow and never know what any of it feels like. Because I like you so much, I want you to be my boyfriend!” 

With that, she jumped down the remaining steps and closed the small distance between them, seized his head in both hands and pulled him into her kiss. Spike tried to resist for a moment, but he fell into her embrace right after—and then they were really kissing, Spike grabbing her shoulders and pulling her body flush against his while she clung to him. When the anger in her abated and she realised he wasn’t pulling away, she loosened her hold and ran her hands up and down his neck, into the small curls she’d loosened at the back of his head, while his cool lips gentled their caresses on hers. 

Needing to come up for air all too soon, Buffy let his mouth go but kept him close, their foreheads touching as she kept her eyes closed, both of them panting into the still night. “Please, you’re all I want. Please.”

“Christ, pet. I try to be a good man, but I’ll never be a saint.” 

“Is that a yes?” She finally opened her eyes, finding him looking at her. 

Spike seemed conflicted and, though his blue eyes were on hers, she could swear he was looking inwards as well. His hands skimmed along her back and he found both of her hands, his hold firm and reassuring. “As long as you’re sure, pet. Yes.”

“Thank you,” she breathed out. 

"Let’s not rush things, luv. The soul seems to have kept some of its Victorian notions, it doesn't seem to like the thought of me taking advantage of a young girl for my own selfish wants.” 

“So what, you want to get married?” Her nose scrunched at the idea. Sure, it was on her list, but so was graduating college. Married at seventeen was a bit too desperate, even for her. 

“Not so fast-like, we’re trying not to rush things, right? Maybe you could let me take you out somewhere? If you really meant wanting me as your boyfriend.” 

“Like on a real date?” she asked excitedly. “You want to? I thought you’d think it was lame.” 

“I want you to be happy, luv. You don’t just deserve the best shag of your life, you deserve to experience being swept off your feet, the finest things life can offer.” 

She closed the gap between them to rest their foreheads together again. “I think I’d like that.” She couldn’t stop the wide smile that burst across her face, accompanied by a giggle. “You’re my boyfriend?”

“I’m not sure about the boy part,” he replied with his own brilliant grin. 

“Manfriend sounds like you're my butler.” 

“How about partners.” He kissed her cheek and her forehead.

“Partners sounds good.”

“You should head in before Joyce comes to check on you and finds us canoodling.” 

Buffy nodded and turned to go back to her key puzzle. Before she could reach the back door, Spike grabbed her hand and spun her back into his arms for a series of soft sweet kisses, like he couldn’t get enough of her. 

“Go, go, or I'll never get in.” She pushed at his chest and he gave in, finally stepping away with that giddy smile still on his handsome face. He turned and ran, and Buffy wanted to think that he felt unable to leave the porch without putting serious space between them.

Buffy calmly unlatched the door and made her way upstairs, past the light seeping from under her mom’s bedroom door to her room. She quickly shucked her patrol clothes and got down to her new favourite pastime. Now it was so much nicer than before with all the new fuel for her fantasies, the taste of him still on her lips as she stroked herself to completion. 

Sweaty and replete, she snuggled into her sheets. He wanted to sweep her off her feet. She kept thinking about that as she drifted off into the most restful sleep she’d had in months.

  
  


*

The rest of the crew had reacted to the new couple each in their own way. Spike met them in the library after school. Instead of taking his customary spot on the steps, as far from her as possible, as she entered he came right to her and wrapped his arms around her, placing a kiss on her cheek. “How was your day, kitten?” 

Buffy beamed up at him from her new favourite place. “It was pretty great.”

She led him to the table and deposited him next to her seat. As Willow chatted about homework while they waited for the others and seemed oblivious to their new closeness, Spike kept holding her hand under the table and stroked his cool fingers over her palm in spiralling patterns. His attention to her sensitive skin was making her think about having his hands in other places, and she shuddered in her seat. 

‘Luckily’, the arrival of Giles, Ms. Calendar, and Angel put the damper on her quickly rising pulse. 

Spike squeezed her hand in reassurance while they waited for everyone to be seated around the large table, then he simply turned to her when there was finally a lull in conversation. 

She pulled her shoulders back, she was the Slayer, she could do this. “Uh, guys, we… we just wanted to tell you that we’re dating now. Me and Spike are people who date each other.” 

Willow let out a high-pitched squeak and looked like she might combust from the excitement. Angel stood abruptly and didn’t acknowledge anyone in the room before striding through the library doors, leaving them swinging behind him. Xander piped in with, “At least it’s not Angel,” and looked back to the book he was idly thumbing through. Ms. Calendar and Giles, meanwhile, were having a rapid whispered conversation across from them. 

The computer teacher fixed Giles with a resolved look and gestured towards the waiting couple. Her watcher sighed and pulled his glasses off to clean the lenses. “Buffy, we did suspect something might happen. While I have my reservations, Jenny has wisely suggested that I shouldn’t stand in the way of others’ happiness. I trust you both to be sensible and not allow this to affect our work.” Giles replaced his glasses and fixed Buffy with his stern look. 

“We promise, Giles, there will be no affecting.” 

With a shaky laugh, she leaned back against her chair and returned Spike’s grip on her hand.

  
  


*

After patrolling that same night, as they finally pulled apart to go to their respective homes, Spike had told her that he’d pick her up the following evening for the date he’d promised her. She’d made her way inside to find her mom in the kitchen with her arms crossed and, since that was one conversation she was avoiding as long as she could, she’d run for the stairs. She’d fallen asleep planning outfits in her head.

The next morning, she’d been a jittery mess. She’d pulled a cupboard door off by the handle while making breakfast, and then bent the cereal spoon while daydreaming. So she’d decided to minimise the disaster zone by staying in her room and making sure she was absolutely prepared. 

And now it was time, seven o’clock having rolled around much more quickly than she would have liked. She looked in her mirror one last time to check her outfit: her leopard-print minidress and high boots made her legs look phenomenal, and the black leather jacket matched Spike's. She looked cute.’ 

A knock came from the front door as she exited her room and she ran down the stairs; her mom was in the bath but she didn’t need to overhear Spike talking. She opened the door and slipped out, locking it behind her. She spun and fixed Spike with a shaky smile. “Hi.” 

“Hello, luv.” His answering smile was reassuring. He held out his hand to her with a single red rose clutched in his hand. “For you.”

“Oh… thank you.” 

He made a sweeping motion out to the street. “Your carriage awaits.” 

That got him a nervous chuckle. She accepted his hand and let him lead her towards a hulking black car parked on the street. He opened the slightly rusty door with an audible creek and she slid into the dark black interior. Spike rushed around the front of the car to the driver’s side and got behind the steering wheel. The silence seemed to make him more and more uncomfortable as they drove towards the Bronze, his hands tapping a manic rhythm against the steering wheel all the while. 

Once they’d parked he came around again to open her door, and held her hand on the walk to the door of the club. Her anxiousness was making her hands sweaty so she had to take hers back to rub it down her dress while Spike was turned away. They entered the building and Spike led her to an empty table, took her coat, and held the chair for her as she sat down. 

“I’ll get us some drinks. Just be a mo’.” He pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head and hurried to the bar. Now she was alone, and with the silence it was only worse. When they’d been just friends they’d never had to fill any spaces, dammit

Spike appeared at her elbow with a diet coke for her in one hand and whiskey for him in the other, and she thanked him quietly. 

She sipped from her straw and looked out on the dance floor, but it was early and there wasn’t anything interesting to watch. Spike had followed her gaze and was looking out onto the floor as well, so she took the opportunity to study him. He wore his usual outfit of black on black on black, with an added button-up black shirt for good measure. 

“You look, um, nice,” she commented, swiveling in the chair to face him. 

He looked down, clearly displeased with his outfit. “It was a bit of a mad dash from Prague when the soul hit. I didn’t think to pack many togs. And there aren’t many night shifts in Sunnydale for a white hat,” he added, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Oh, well, you pull off wardrobe-challenged well.” She grimaced at herself. _Way to go, Buffy, very smooth._

The music picked up in volume and filled the space, and Spike suddenly rose from his seat and grabbed her hand. “Come on, pretty girl, dance with me.” 

They made their way out onto the floor as the music calmed to a slow dance. Spike held her hand against his chest, and she laid her head against his chest as he wrapped his other arm around her. 

“Spike… if you don’t want to do this, I would totally understand. I don’t want you to do it out of pity.” She hid her flaming face against him.

“‘Pity’, pft. I’m doing this because I’m completely gone for you. Just don’t want to balls it up.” 

She looked up from her spot to see his face. Spike was a terrible liar, she needed to see what was going on behind his eyes. “Then why did you say no for so long?”

He sighed. “I suppose the soul was giving me faulty reasons. Telling me you were too young, that I shouldn’t be so selfish to want you. You’re a hero, after all.” 

She shook her head at him. 

“But it seems to be coming around,” he continued. “There’s something ancient inside you, and the part that’s human has had to grow up fast.”

She moved on her tiptoes to capture his lips, and when she ran out of air she slid back down to his chest, sighing against him. The warm fuzzies that now accompanied Spike were firmly in place as his honesty ease most of her fears. 

They stayed on the dance floor for the rest of the night, trading kisses between songs and holding each other close. And when he dropped her off at her front door with her rose and a series of furious kisses, she felt thoroughly swept off her feet.

  
  


*

Life on the Hellmouth took on a new and exciting pattern from that moment. For once, she was thankful there was so little vamp activit, since her patrols had turned into nightly passion-filled evenings Spike would meet her outside, sometimes after saying goodbye to her mom, and they would race to the first graveyard. She loved that Spike never slowed up to let her win, she always succeeded in a race or fight against him on her own merits. 

As soon as they’d made their round of the plots, Spike would push her up against a crypt or a tree, anything vertical worked for him. Because no matter how hot and desperate she got, he insisted that her first time was going to be in a bed, where they had plenty of time to enjoy themselves, not in a damp graveyard. Buffy had even suggested his room at the mansion, but that didn’t work as, according to Spike, Angel was becoming increasingly surly with him each passing night. It turned out that vampire senses were kind of gross, since Angel could smell her on Spike when he got home. He was worried that if they went to the mansion it would be the last straw, and Angel would try to rend his head from his body while they were getting down to it. 

So they got very imaginative with their vertical-ness. She’d quickly learnt to keep her miniskirts as mini as possible, since Spike said he liked to watch her legs as she fought. Plus, this way Spike’s hands could find her thighs as they kissed... Spike’s kisses made her feel more alive than she’d ever felt. 

The downside of all the hot and heavy action was that her fingers were starting to not be enough to get her to sleep. After hours of Spike, sometimes she had to bring herself off three or four times in a row, with increasingly wild imaginings. She was getting seriously tired of having to stop her wandering hands and the rock of her hips against the swell in his pants. She needed to do something about it.

Even when they were with the rest of the gang and had to stop making out, he was the best boyfriend ever. He always opened the door for her and held her chair, he held her hand every chance he got, and he peppered her face with cute little kisses all the time. In short, aside from her frustration, Buffy felt like she'd won the boyfriend lottery.

*

  
  


Tonight was the night. She’d even dressed in his favourite outfit, and she was _ready_. She tugged him towards the back door by their clasped hands. 

"Will you come upstairs?" she asked, unable to look him in the face when they both knew what she was asking. Even after all this time getting up close and personal with him, she hadn’t seemed to be able to stop the embarrassment and excitement he made her feel. She assumed normal girls didn't usually have to ask, things just happened naturally, but there was no way he would make the move on his own. 

Spike resisted her gentle tugging. "Luv, what about Joyce? Don't think she'd appreciate it."

Buffy paused, facing away from him but still holding onto his hand. She took a deep breath to gather the strength she needed to try and persuade him to give in. "She's not here... she had to go on a buying trip for the gallery. But she'll be home in time for your shows on Monday," she quipped, hoping he’d relax.

It seemed to work as he finally allowed her to pull him along into the house, through the dim kitchen and hallway to the bottom of the stairs. She folded her jacket on the newel post and rushed up the stairs ahead of him.

Although she’d tried to imagine him with her in a thousand different ways, she’d never thought about the awkward mechanics of it all. Once they got to her bedroom, she didn’t know what to do first, she hadn’t planned this far. 

Spike seemed to notice her floundering at the first hurdle and decided he was going to take the lead. He pulled her towards her bed and deposited her to perch on the side while he turned on the lamp against the wall. “You need to relax, kitten,” he said, his voice calming as he sat beside her. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want. You’re the one who sets the pace.” 

“No, I want this. I just... I’m not sure what to do now that we’re here.” 

Spike shrugged out of his duster and let it fall to the floor, lying back against the bed to shuffle up to the pillows as Buffy followed him to lie on her side, facing him. He reached for her face and brushed the stray hair away from her cheek. “Don’t think too hard about it, princess. It’s like when we fight, when we dance—but maybe this time follow me. Just tell me what feels good.” His smile was dazzling and reassuring in equal measure.

“Okay.” 

He took that as the permission it was and closed the space between them to kiss her. His tongue brushed against her lips, and she allowed him in. He licked along the inner seam of her lip, sending a shiver down her body, then stroked her tongue to life. This was comfortable territory for them, and she felt herself relax onto her bed and inch towards him. They parted abruptly when she ran out of breath but never moved away from each other. When Buffy’s hands started clawing at his soft T-shirt and she began to pull at the hem, he shimmied backward to pull it over his head. 

“Wow,” was all she could muster at the defined lines of his torso. She’d been touching him for weeks now, but seeing it was a whole new experience. She felt heat in her cheeks then and, to stop herself from saying anything even more mortifying, she followed suit and pulled her light camisole up and away from her skin—and since it had looked nicer without a bra, it left her topless before him.

Spike took her in slowly, from the edge of her still-clasped skirt to the soft swell of her stomach, and stalled on the lush curve of her breasts. “Wow yourself.” He grasped her hand and laid it on his abdomen as he moved back in to kiss her. 

Buffy was struggling to concentrate on moving her mouth against his coherently while she was touching him, but Spike seemed to know and moved from her lips down to her neck, which was just as distracting but didn’t involve any active input from her. So she got to work brushing her hands over his smooth firm abs and up to his nipples, to his strong shoulders and back down, her fingers brushing back and forth along the line of his jeans. He was planting open-mouthed kisses against her shoulders and paused to look at her as he scooted down towards her naked breasts.

She watched as he skimmed his nose along to the top of her chest and placed delicate kisses to the curve of her breast, until he reached the pert nipple and placed his lips around it, and sucked. Her nipple seemed to have a direct line to her clit as he mouthed her, making her throb and pulse in her panties. She clutched at his head and pulled him as close as he could be. Eventually he relented and released her, only to push her onto her back and move to her other breast. 

“Christ, your tits are magnificent,” he whimpered against her skin. All he got in return was a low whine from the back of her throat as he fastened himself to her nipple and brought his hand up to cradle her free breast, brushing its peak with his thumb, making her hips squirm against the bed. 

She tapped at the back of his head. “More,” she demanded with a hoarse voice.

He finally left her breast to rise up on his knees and move between her spread legs. His hands moved to the zip of her skirt and he hesitated, looking at her. 

“Yes,” she murmured. And between them they dragged the fabric free of her legs, along with her damp panties. She squirmed some more as Spike stared at her, seemingly transfixed by the newly uncovered area between her legs. “You too,” she demanded as she leaned up on one hand and reached for his belt. 

He obeyed immediately, wrenching his belt free and pulling at the buttons of his fly, never letting his eyes leave her body, making her feel like she was an oasis on the distant horizon of a desert. 

Buffy let herself watch as he revealed himself and lay down beside her again. His cock was much nicer-looking than the illustration she’d seen in that book, a long hard line between the slashes of his hips. It was the same pale colour as the rest of his skin, except for a small pink head just peeking out from the tip. She was mesmerised. 

“Can I touch it?” she asked. 

“Yeah, you can touch it,” he breathed out on a chuckle.

He held her hand in his and cupped her palm around the base of him. Buffy was surprised by the soft, silky skin of the shaft as she copied his motions in an up-and-down pulse along his length, moving the skin against the hardness beneath. A bead of liquid was welling from the tip and in the next upwards movement she paused and brushed at it with her thumb. 

Spike let out a groan and released her hand. “Don’t stop, baby. Just gotta touch you.” He kissed at her slack mouth and slowly raised her top leg over his hip, opening her up to him. When his chill fingers moved against her inflamed flesh, she trembled at the hot electric sparks that sped across her skin. “What was the verdict of your self-discovery?” 

Some still-coherent part of her brain realised he was asking her what to do. “Circles,” was all she managed to bite out.

“Circles it is, then.” 

He effortlessly found the crest of her clit and with two fingers started a swirling circular motion, in time with the rhythm of her own hand. Buffy closed her eyes against the tide of feeling rising in her, the wicked heat and decadent pleasure. Still, further down her core she could feel an aching emptiness that demanded her attention. 

“Lower, please,” she spoke into the space between their faces.

Spike’s whirling fingers travelled down her slick flesh to the edge of her opening, and he carefully probed into her, groaning softly, before—“Oh.” 

That pulled her from her pleasured haze. “Oh, what oh? Is something wrong?” she asked with a panicked edge. 

“Nothing wrong, pet. I just expected there to be something in the way.”

“Is that bad? I swear, Spike, I’ve never done anything before.”

“Calm down, luv. Just a bit of a surprise. It’s not like a human freshness seal, and it’s probably because of all of those high kicks. Won’t like it any more or less either way.”

“Okay, so get with the hands.”

“Yes, miss,” he said, smirking at her demanding tone.

He went back to pressing into her with one delicate finger, slowly pushing and pulling until he curled it towards himself and began a rubbing motion. And God, that felt like being lit up from the inside, as if he was touching the very core of her. Her hips began a rolling motion against his hand, trying to gain as much of him as she could find.

“Spike… can you… be inside me now?” she asked between panting breaths. 

He groaned and nodded quickly, and she allowed him to roll them until she was on her back, looking up at him. He went right back to touching her swollen nub, rolling it under his thumb, while he held himself over her and her legs bent and spread to allow him between them. 

“This might sting for a second, cutie,” he murmured in her ear. “Tell me if you need me to stop.” 

She simply nodded against his shoulder as speech was beyond her, and clutched at his strong back. His hand left her for a moment, just enough to bring his velvety tip to her opening, then he was back with his insistent circles that made her clench in need. Slowly, he finally pushed his hips forward, starting to enter her, then he gasped and paused there, her muscles slowly getting used to this new intrusion. There was a slight stretching sting, like her skin was burning where they met, but it slowly ebbed away in favour of the joy of his fingers.

He panted loudly against the side of her head, a full-body shiver making him tremble against her all over. “Christ, Buffy. You’re so hot, baby.” 

“Move,” she bit out in reply. 

He let out another breathless chuckle and pushed further into her body, and as his hips finally came flush with her, his cock hit against something inside her. The way he filled her up, his cock touching that place inside, the urgent movement of his thumb on her clit—all of it combined to send her into wild spasms of bliss, her legs shaking and her hips rocking forward to search out more contact. Spike moaned as he stopped, fully seated within her as she rippled around him. 

After a moment of short, gasping breaths, Spike pulled away from her and her muscles clenched, trying to keep him inside. “Ah, fuck, just like that.” 

He started thrusting, and every time he moved into her he brushed up against his own fingers, doubling her pleasure and pushing a mewl from her open mouth. 

“Does it feel good, Buffy?” he asked, voice low and husky, close to her ear.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Harder. Faster.”

He obeyed immediately, upping his pace, the wet slap of their bodies adding another layer of indulgence and pleasure. She was reaching for that pinnacle again, raising her own hips to chase his as he withdrew. And abruptly she was there, exhaling harshly as all of her body tensed and trembled, every inch of her skin screaming and then sighing as she relaxed onto the bed. 

Spike had kept up his hard thrusts through her orgasm but slowed as she melted down. With a brush of her hand she pushed him away from her oversensitive clit and grabbed at his ass to keep him going. 

“Oh, oh, _ah_ , Buffy, uhnn,” he grunted into the pillow beside her head, and as she rocked her hips into his, the last twitches of her orgasm brought him over the edge. He settled his hips into hers, still buried deep inside her, breathing hard next to her ear. 

Spike recovered after a few lulling moments and pulled his weight off her body, his softening cock sliding out of her with a wet sound that made her shiver. His hand came up to cup her cheek and she opened her eyes to look into his eyes. 

“You okay, kitten?” he asked with a soft look. 

“So okay,” she giggled drunkenly. 

A smile spread across his face and he rolled off her, widening his arms invitingly. As she got comfortable on his chest, he pulled the sheet from below them and tucked it over their cooling bodies, then he held her hand against his heart and cradled her head in the dip of his shoulder. 

“Get some rest, baby,” he whispered to the now-drifting Slayer draped over him. 

“Stay,” she muttered back.

“Wild Fyarls couldn’t drag me away.” 

  
  


*

The thready morning light woke Buffy from her peaceful sleep. She stretched and rolled, running straight into Spike’s body. Slowly he regained consciousness and, after blinking at her, he nudged her nose with his and reached to wrap his arm around her naked waist. 

“Morning, beautiful.”

“Hi,” she managed to say as a sleepy smile lit his face. 

“How do you feel, no aches?” 

She took a moment to assess herself and grinned. “I’m ache-free. I feel great.”

She could have swum in the deep blue depth of his eyes. “You were amazing, kitten.”

She pecked him on the nose. “We’re amazing together.”

*

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first-ever piece of fiction and I’m so excited to publish it. I hope sophiesilverman enjoys it as much as I enjoyed my presents. Their preferences were: time travel, season 2, post-comics. I took most of my inspiration from season 2 and sprinkled in a time-travelling soul. 
> 
> It was important to me to make my work as realistic as possible so I added some details to illustrate that. Buffy has a tummy ‘swell’ because almost all people do, that’s where we keep our organs and some people keep a womb. She has body hair, since everyone is covered in a fine layer of body hair and there’s nothing wrong with that. Lastly, there’s lots of myths about the hymen: it isn’t a seal that covers the vaginal opening; most people with vaginas tear or stretch it from everyday physical activities; some people are born without one entirely. I also think Spike wouldn’t have specific sexual interest in virginity.
> 
> Thank you for reading, I would appreciate any and all comments.


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